


Trust

by sheafrotherdon



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-05
Updated: 2011-04-05
Packaged: 2017-10-17 15:42:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/178401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sheafrotherdon/pseuds/sheafrotherdon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Let me," Steve says, and what's Danny supposed to say to that, what can he do but let his hands drop to his sides?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trust

"Let me," Steve says, and what's Danny supposed to say to that, what can he do but let his hands drop to his sides? He stands there as Steve reaches for his tie, breathes even while Steve's fingers fumble, while Steve figures out the mechanics of this little operation, and then Steve's sliding the fabric slick-sweet from beneath his shirt. Steve's face is a study in flushed concentration, and Danny wants to reach up, to smooth those lines from between his brows, but he doesn't, he stands there, lets Steve work at his shirt buttons, swallows hard when Steve's fingers graze the skin beside his navel, and he bites his lip when Steve pushes the shirt away. Danny clenches his fists so that he doesn't touch, closes his eyes when Steve works at his belt, and when Steve palms his hips, eases fabric loose, he'd stumble if Steve didn't have him, and his breathing's hard and fast.

"God, Danny," Steve says, sounding wrecked already, and he spreads a hand against Danny's chest. He has to be able to feel Danny's heart knocking wild.

"Fucking kiss me, I swear," Danny says, all bravado, and Steve crowds in against him, fully clothed, keep-away rough, and Danny moves at last, slides his hands to Steve's face, shudders his wanting into the heat of Steve's mouth. "Get naked," Danny breathes, because he can't stand this, he can't, but he can't stop touching long enough to make it easy. They muddle through it – shirt and t-shirt and belt and pants – and when they fall into bed it's the drag of Steve's bare foot against the back of his calf that has him buck and whimper, press his mouth against the scar below Steve's collarbone, suck a kiss there, graze his teeth. It's too much, everywhere, this day-bruised skin, and Danny chokes out a plea when Steve ruts down against him, when their hips meet and slide, when Steve spills against Danny's belly, when his own voice cracks. Danny moans when he comes, and the sound breaks open against Steve's jaw, skitters recklessly over every inch of their pressed-close skin.

After, cleaned up in some half-assed fashion, Danny shivers, more naked now than he was before, burrows in hard and refuses to think about the ask in the curve of his shoulders. But Steve meets him right there, winds his arms around him, and Danny shudders once, slides a leg between Steve's thighs, pushes and feels Steve push back against him, comes to a rest, tucks his face against Steve's throat.


End file.
